I, Bastila
by Futility Reigns
Summary: KotOR : Facing Revan in battle had been her choice. Dealing with the aftermath was not.
1. Disquieting Quiescence

As a Jedi, it was practically a requirement to believe in destiny. Even a Jedi who had never felt the subtle pull of the Force guiding them to take a one action over another knew that there were simply too many convenient coincidences in the universe. Bastila did not need to feel the unusual weight in the force to know that this meeting was destiny. Neither did the Jedi that followed her through the entryway to the bridge of the Sith flagship.

Bastila's eyes were pulled towards Revan, who was facing away from them, staring out upon the battle raging violently outside. It was an odd juxtaposition; the frenetic clash of ship and laser seemed so surreal when seen from the disquieting quiescence of the bridge.

The bridge was otherwise vacant; Revan must have sensed them coming and dismissed the officers. It was a strange thing to do. Most fallen Jedi would want to flaunt their power in front of their subordinates, not arrange for an unobserved duel. There was also the matter of not having backup in case things started going badly; it was 4-on-1, after all. Bastila could not tell if it was sheer overconfidence on Revan's part or the simple, quiet sense of honor that the Sith Lord had possessed before falling to the dark.

"Revan," she said softly.

"Bastila," the Dark Lord replied tonelessly, the syllables echoing disconcertingly from within the Mandalorian battle helm. "Korric. Ladya. Ondar. And let us not forget Inshai, whose end I sensed mere minutes ago. The Council certainly made careful consideration of who they would send to confront me. It would seem they still hold some hope for my redemption."

Taking a step forward, Ondar blurted out, "_Why_, Revan?"

"Control yourself, padawan," Bastila chastised curtly, though it was the same question she desperately wanted an answer to.

"Why?" Revan repeated contemplatively before finally turning away from the raging battle in space. The Dark Lord cut quite an imposing figure when viewed from the front, dark cloak casting dark armor in malevolent shadow. "There are too many reasons to recount. The Jedi have neglected their duty as guardians of the Republic. The Republic has abandoned its purpose as advocates and protectors of the people. Both are blind to the truth of things."

"The Revan I remember would _never_ discount someone for their failings!" Ondar protested. "Whenever you saw a problem, you fixed it!"

"Am I not fixing the problem?"

"You call this _fixing_ the problem?"

Feeling that the situation was getting out of hand, Bastila chastised her companion once more. "Ondar, _stop_. Control yourself or leave."

The Jedi backed off, struggling to deal with his anger.

Revan chuckled softly, the helmet adding dark, metallic overtones to the sound, before quoting lightly, "There is no emotion; there is peace. Now is not the time to be forgetting your lessons."

Bastila glanced sidelong at her companion, hoping that the jibe would not push him over the edge. Strangely enough, it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Ondar now was quite in control, his emotions only betrayed by the tenseness of the muscles along his jaws.

"I see you still know how to manipulate us, even after all these years," Bastila observed coolly.

Revan seemed to shrug under the armor. "None of us have changed so much these past years. Not even me, though I am certain you would like to believe otherwise."

After a moment of silence, Revan added mournfully, "I suppose this is the end of our quiet chat."

Surely enough, several dark Jedi had rallied under the battlecry of "Protect the Lord!" and were now storming the bridge to do just that. Bastila watched said Dark Lord suspiciously, wondering if Revan would join the fray. When no such indication was forthcoming, she engaged one of the new opponents, dealing with him quickly and decisively. The distraction had been dealt with as quickly as it had come, but now things were different; lightsabers had been drawn.

"You have to understand that you cannot win, Revan."

"Are you so certain, Bastila?"

They both felt the disturbance at the same time. Bastila tried to shout out a warning as she threw herself out of the way, but the words got caught in her throat and she was sent flying by the sudden explosion.

She tried to protect herself from the impact of landing with her arm, dislocating her shoulder as a result. All the air was knocked from her lungs and she rolled clumsily to a stop. Reopening her eyes, she staggered to her feet, disoriented, but not wanting to be caught off-guard. The first thing she saw was Ondar, Korric, and Ladya- dead. They hadn't sensed the attack and had been unable to prepare for it. There was nothing she could do for them.

Then she saw Revan. She had no doubt that the Dark Lord was the intended target of the attack. She made her way over to the armored body, intending to at least remove the Sith's helmet in death. It was the least she could do.

As Bastila removed the war helmet, she felt the faintest tickle of breath on her skin. Her eyes widened as she realized the improbable truth; Revan was still alive.

Without a second thought, Bastila was searching for injuries and doing her best to heal them. There was significant head trauma, which the young Jedi had not the skill to repair. But she did have enough ability to treat some of the other serious injuries.

"I will _not_ let you die," she insisted as she worked. "Inshai… Ondar… Korric… Ladya… they died so we could capture you. I refuse to let you die now; not after all this."

True to her word, Bastila did not let Revan die.


	2. The Republic's Newest Soldier

Bastila would not pace. No. Never. Bastila would not pace because a Jedi did not pace. To pace was to admit one was anxious and _real_ Jedi could control their emotions better than that. No, a real Jedi would... a real Jedi would meditate in times like these!

With a goal of meditation firmly in mind, Bastila stopped tapping her foot incessantly on the floor.

And, really, it wasn't as though she was _worried_ or anything. Certainly, Revan's mental injuries had been beyond her power to heal, but the masters certainly could fix them, right? And, of course, Revan would be completely reasonable when they did heal those injuries. It wasn't like the Dark Lord would just start killing people... right?

Oh, who was she kidding? Killing people was what Sith Lords did for a living, wasn't it? At least, that's what she'd been led to believe. She had never quite believed it of Revan, of course. She was pretty sure Revan never did _anything_ without a clear, strategic reason behind it. That was part of the reason Revan had been tauted as the Perfect Jedi before her descent to darkness. She had always calmly calculated everything without even a regard to her emotions. She had practically _embodied_ the code.

But Bastila had been much younger when Revan went off to the Mandalorian wars. Was her childhood memory really that dependable? Revan had seemed surprisingly reasonable aboard the Sith vessel; not what Bastila had expected at _all_ of a Sith Lord. Perhaps Revan had been hiding her true nature? What if she had been hiding it all the time Bastila had known her? What if beneath that calculating exterior lay...

"That is _completely_ ridiculous," she snarled at herself, forcibly prying her thoughts away from the questions that had plagued her ever since the fateful battle.

Bastila was meditating now, which meant her thoughts were calm and controlled and collected and _of course_ that was not her finger tapping repeatedly against her kneecap.

"Oh, blast it all!" This would not do.

Perhaps a different venue would provide the peace of mind she needed. Yes, the gardens would suit perfectly.

Walking through the sloping halls of the Jedi enclave was soothing in its familiarity. How many times had she strolled these paths as a child and young adult? How many times had she sat and meditated in this garden, the tranquil atmosphere helping her find the inner peace all Jedi sought?

Sitting down, she willed herself into the calm serenity of meditation.

"Bastila? I thought I might find you here." The padawan startled as she heard Master Zhar's voice. How had she not sensed his presence? Opening her eyes, she saw that it was already evening. Had she fallen asleep? No, that was ridiculous. She had simply been deep in her meditation was all.

She stood up, the stiffness in her muscles evidence of how much time she had spent in meditation, and bowed to the enclave's leader. "Master Zhar. Do you have news for me?"

He made a small gesture and Bastila realized for the first time just how tired the master seemed. "Walk with me, Padawan Shan."

She did so, glad to get her blood flowing and work the stiffness out of her muscles. She waited for some news of Revan's condition, good or ill, but instead, Master Zhar decided to speak on other things. "The gardens are looking wonderful this year. It would seem one of the apprentices has quite the gift for nurturing life." Knowing that she was not expected to answer, Bastila remained silent, waiting for him to speak again.

"Revan's mind is broken beyond our skill to repair. We also were unable to pull any information from what is left. Everything is too disjointed."

"I see," Bastila murmured. "I suppose... I suppose it is for the best then." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, however, and unbidden, the memory of Ondar's desperate question came to mind: _Why?_

"Is it?" the Master asked rhetorically. "We are left with too many unanswered questions. What pulled Revan to the dark side? Where did the Sith amass such a quantity of ships and soldiers? Where did they go after the war and what did they find?"

"When we confronted Revan, she spoke of failings of the Jedi and the Republic. She also said something which I find disquieting. She said that we do not understand the truth of things, as though there is some far greater power at work."

"That may very well be, Padawan Shan. The Force works in mysterious ways. We can merely accept what guidance it gives us at times like these."

Bastila nodded, accepting the lesson, though it was one she had heard countless times before. The conversation fell into a lull as they neared the entrance to the enclave proper. However, Bastila felt that there was something still missing. Tentatively, she asked, "Nothing can be done for Revan?"

Master Zhar seemed to hesitate a moment before making an internal decision. "There is one path remaining to us. I do not even wish to consider it; but the fact remains that the knowledge Revan holds is invaluable to us and could mean the difference in this war."

Bastila looked sharply at the Jedi Master, wondering what sort of last resort he could be considering. However, he would tell her no more and soon enough they were bidding their farewells as Master Zhar excused himself to get some rest.

And, somehow, Bastila was left with more questions than she had begun with.

* * *

In all her years of life, Bastila had never had so little to do. Growing up in the enclave had been full of classes and lessons and study and practice and when she had not been occupied with all that, the children her own age often had some sort of game to pass the time. Now she was a Padawan and had outgrown such childish pastimes. The masters of the enclave were all overly busy between their normal duties and the ones placed upon them with the arrival of Bastila's captive and had no time to spare for giving extra lessons. She spent some of her free time in the library, reading, and some practicing and training, but even those got tiresome after a while.

The third day after her conversation with Master Zhar, Bastila decided to venture beyond the enclave. However, she was soon discouraged by the baleful looks of the local farmers. The disparaging remarks she heard about Jedi gave her enough of a clue why they seemed to distrust her. She wondered what had given these people cause to dislike Jedi so much.

Perhaps it was fear and ignorance. Jealousy? Bastila had heard many such explanations for why those not gifted with the ability to sense the Force hated those possessing it. Still, the dislike did not sit well with Bastila, especially after hearing Revan's accusation that the Jedi had neglected their duty to the Republic.

Could Revan be correct?

No, Revan had merely suffered from the delusions of the dark side of the force. Or, perhaps, she had been trying to instill doubt in them. Doubt in the Jedi Code was the first step on the path towards darkness. Bastila mentally chided herself for even entertaining such thoughts.

Had that been Revan's goal? It was impossible to tell, but the thought filled Bastila with a sense of foreboding. Had that shot not been fired upon Revan's bridge, what would the result of their confrontation have been? If Revan had won, would Bastila be dead? Or would she be kept alive, her doubts and uncertainties playing at her mind until she, too, succumbed?

And there Revan would have been, full of confidence and charisma and the answers to all of her dilemmas. The thought made Bastila feel unclean. Suddenly, the scene on the bridge took on a whole new light. That was not the same Revan she remembered; that was the Dark Lord of the Sith manipulating them. She had played with their emotions by appearing to be the same person as within their memories.

Bastila's thoughts were interrupted by what could only be described as a _ripple_ in the Force. It was such a unique sensation and such a strong one that she was shocked into inaction for a moment. It was only for a moment; after the shock wore off, she was on her feet and racing towards the council chamber. After all, there was only one thing in the enclave that would cause such an occurrence. _Revan_.

As she rushed towards the place where she knew the Masters to be, unlit lightsaber in hand, the Jedi in her way scattered, each looking as confused as would be expected. Ignoring etiquette, she barged through the doors... only to stop cold.

Revan was still blissfully unconscious, no longer dressed in her ridiculous Mandalorian battle armor. The Masters arrayed around her were all now looking up at Bastila with some degree of surprise. They all looked exhausted.

Only Zhar seemed more amused than anything at her sudden entrance. "I suppose this saves us the trouble of summoning you. Padawan Shan, allow us to introduce the Republic's newest soldier."


	3. Distant Past, Uncertain Future

"Padawan Shan, allow us to introduce the Republic's newest soldier. Envar Tasadii."

Bastila looked first at Master Zhar, understanding not quite setting in, then at the other masters, then at Revan's unconscious form lying between them. "I... I do not understand, masters."

With a weary sigh, Master Dorak levered himself to his feet. "Revan's mind and memories were unsalvageable. The best we could do was to give her a fresh start. Perhaps, with time, her memories will begin to surface and we can uncover the truth." Turning to the other masters, the aged chronicler bowed apologetically. "This day has taken much out of me. I will retire to my chambers."

Master Zhar nodded to Dorak and then turned to the remaining two Masters. "I will appraise Padawan Shan of the situation. You may rest if you desire."

Zandar and Vrook accepted the dismissal gracefully, though the latter could not resist advising Bastila on one thing. "Do _not_ trust her."

Bastila knew from experience that Vrook was the most negative of the council on Dantooine, but even so, the warning spoke to all of her uncertainties about the situation. As the other masters were leaving, she asked carefully, "Is this the other option you spoke of?"

Zhar was now standing as well and gestured for Bastila to follow him. They left the chamber and Zhar closed and Force-sealed the doors with a resounding _thud_. Somehow, the action seemed to symbolize the finality of what had gone on within. Even as a young and inexperienced Padawan, Bastila knew there was no going back from what had just occurred.

He led her toward a secluded part of the enclave, where their discussion would not be overheard.

"She has been cut off from the Force. As to her personality, you will likely find it remarkably similar to that which you remember. We do not yet know if her skills will manifest or not. It is hard to say at this point." He paused, allowing her the time to digest the information, before moving on. "The Republic has all but demanded your return to the fleet. They would not be so rude as to actually make that demand, of course. We have told them that you are recovering from your battle."

A nonexistant battle, really. Her only real wound- a dislocated shoulder- had been easy enough to take care of at the time and, with the more recent application of Force healing, the joint felt as good as new. As for emotional wounds, four of her colleagues had died that day, but she knew that they were not truly gone; they had joined the Force, just as she one day would. Besides which, her daily meditations were meant to rid her of such unnecessary emotions, as they had. She was, of course, entirely at peace.

Seeming to follow her thought process, Master Zhar spoke lightly, "If, at any time, you wish to discuss the events which took place, I would be content to listen."

"Thank you, Master Zhar, but I do not think that will be necessary."

Accepting that answer, the Twi'lek returned to the matter at hand. "The Endar Spire will be docking in a matter of days. They will escort you back to the main fleet. We have already requested that Envar be under your direct command."

"I do not mean to question your judgement, Master, but why me? I cannot keep watch over... over _her_ and perform my Battle Meditation at the same time."

"I understand your concerns, Bastila, but this is a matter of necessity. Only a select few know the truth of what happened: the Council on Coruscant, of course, myself, Master Vrook, Master Dorak, Master Vandar... and you. We cannot keep her here. There are still those who would recognize her for who she really is. The same is true of Coruscant, where you may remember she studied before coming to join our enclave."

After a momentary pause, the master looked at Bastila appraisingly. "And there is the matter that you saved her life. You showed compassion where few others would, Bastila Shan, and it becomes you. You understand both the dangers and the potential rewards. You have a perspective on the situation which is likely more judicious than my own. In light of these recent events, I have faith that you will handle this unusual situation with wisdom and care."

* * *

That night, Bastila dreamed. The vagueness of the dream state contrasted harshly with the sharp and strangely vivid memory that had been long since forgotten. Bastila had been six...

_Bastila was six and she hated her mother. Even galaxies apart, she couldn't bring herself to do anything but hate her mother. She hated her mother so much, in fact, that the last parting words she'd screamed in the woman's face were, "I hate you! I never want to see you again!"_

_So far, she had gotten her wish. This childish dream-come-true was only spoiled by one thing; she hadn't seen her father in all that time either. Somehow she came to the conclusion that this state of affairs was her mother's fault. Her mother was keeping her father away! And that only made her hate the woman more._

_She had spent a miserable week, so far, at the Jedi Academy, being lectured at by boring old people and being talked down to by her fellow children. She didn't care. Soon, she thought, her father would realize that this was wrong and he'd come to take her back. Even in her childish fantasies, Bastila knew that going back to live with her father also meant going back to live with her mother. But she could deal with that. She loved her father more than she hated her mother._

_She had taken to sitting near the landing bay, having noticed that ships would occasionally come. If her daddy came for her, she wanted to be right there to see him so he could hug her and swing her around and call her "Basti" like he always had. And then he'd sit her down and tell her the stories of his dangerous, yet exciting adventures. Bastila couldn't wait. She'd been gone__** so long**__. Surely he had some truly amazing stories by now._

_She was so wrapped up in imagining their happy reunion that Bastila didn't notice she had company until said company sat down next to her. It was an older girl dressed in Jedi robes with her black hair tied back out of the way._

_"I don't think any ships are coming today," the girl said._

_Bastila was only irritated by such ill-fortune assurances. "Yeah? How'd __**you**__ know?"_

_The girl gestured around the empty docking station. "When the ships come to land, they send the protocol droids and the security drones out. See? It's empty."_

_Bastila was taken aback by the accurate summation. Now that she thought about it, she realized that the older girl was right. But then she felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach as she realized there was no possibility for her father to show up today, then. Miserably, she murmured, "I want my daddy."_

_She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and Bastila almost jumped at the contact. No one had touched her since she had arrived a week ago. Bastila was six and desperately in need of some comfort in the midst of all this upheaval. The older girl let out a gasp as she was suddenly clung to._

_"I want daddy," Bastila repeated._

_"You want to make your daddy proud, though, right?"_

_Bastila pulled away from the older girl and gave her a disparaging glare that was only ruined by a hiccup. Just when she thought she had met someone here that wasn't stupid and annoying. The older girl took it all in stride, however, and grinned. "Of course you do. Sorry, it was a silly question, I know." She turned serious. "I don't think your daddy would be proud of you sitting here waiting for him."_

_Her first instinct was anger and her chubby little hands balled into fists. "You dunno my daddy t'all!"_

_"No, but I bet your daddy would be proud if you went home with all sorts of stories of the brave and exciting things you do as a Jedi. You could tell him all about how you're a hero and defender of the Republic."_

_Bastila's jaw worked silently. Daddy had always come home from his adventures with these great stories. What if the girl was right? What if this was her big and exciting adventure and she could go home and tell Daddy about it? He would be so proud of her! _

_"And I know it's lonely here in the meantime without your family, but maybe we could be your family for now? I mean... you wouldn't have a mommy or a daddy but you could have lots of brothers and sisters who all want to grow up to be Jedi too."_

_Bastila was more than happy not having a mother and she didn't want a different father. She'd never had siblings, though and for a moment she fantasized about what it might be like. She looked up at the older girl plaintively. "Really?"_

_She received a curt nod in response. "Really."_

_"You gonna be my sister too?"_

_"If you'd like."_

_Bastila smiled. Suddenly this place didn't seem so bad. But then she realized she didn't even know the girl's name! Remembering what her parents used to do when they introduced themselves, Bastila stuck out her hand. "I'm Bastila."_

_The girl didn't take her hand, instead standing up. "Ready for your first lesson, Apprentice Bastila? Us Jedi are stuffy and formal so instead of shaking hands, we bow." She demonstrated. "Here, you try."_

_Giggling at the joke, Bastila scrambled to her feet and clumsily mimicked the motion. She wasn't very good at it, but she got a nod of approval anyway._

_The older girl bowed again and said formally, "I'm glad to meet you, Bastila. My name is Revan."_

Bastila awoke, a feeling of discomfort settling in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the dream. It had been a long time since she had dreamed of her childhood. Regardless, she disregarded the dream as just that- a dream. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Bastila got out of bed and prepared for her morning meditation.

* * *

Four days later, Bastila was greeting Captain Onasi at the spacedock as his crew went about the business of reloading and refueling.

"Jedi Bastila!" he greeted enthusiastically, extending a hand. "This is quite an honor. I am Carth Onasi, captain of the Endar Spire. I would like to be the first to say _thank you_ for all you have done. Oh, and welcome aboard."

Bastila glanced at his proffered hand. Handshaking was not the Jedi way. In fact, it seemed awfully... plebeian. Instead, she made a slight bow. "Thank you for your kind welcome, Captain Onasi. How long will it take us to rendezvous with the fleet?"

"Roughly two weeks. The war's been quiet since Revan's death, but we've had some news of activity in the Ojoster Sector recently."

At the mention of Revan's supposed end, Bastila had the sudden realization that she would have to be an excellent liar to pull this charade off. Luckily, her Jedi training had prepared her enough that she didn't so much as twitch at the mention of the Sith Lord.

"How long before the Endar Spire is ready to depart?"

"No more than a few hours. Our orders indicate all haste. Seems to me like the generals are all too eager to have their good luck back on the battlefield again."

Bastila bristled at the way Onasi spoke of her Battle Meditation. It was a prized ability, honed through years of training, not some... some charm! She almost gave the man a piece of her mind right then, but reminded herself that she would be aboard this man's ship for the next two weeks. Getting into a quarrel with the man before the ship had even left dock would not make her life easier, even if it would assuage her Jedi pride.

Luckily, Onasi hadn't seemed to notice. "You probably want to know where you'll be staying," he was saying, gesturing to the closest ramp onto the ship. "I'll give you the grand tour."

Deciding it couldn't hurt, Bastila followed the captain up the ramp into the ship. It was not the largest ship she had ever been on, but it was a warship nonetheless. Nowhere was that fact more obvious than in the discipline of the soldiers serving aboard the ship. As the captain approached, the soldiers would step out of his way, salute, and stand at attention until he had passed.

"You run a tight ship, Captain Onasi."

"This is a Republic warship. We do not tolerate a lack of discipline- especially in wartime."

Bastila gave an absent nod as she studied the ship and people around them. Onasi pointed out various notable locations as they strode by them.

"This is the main mess. You will, of course, be more than welcome to take your meals in the officer's mess, of course." Bastily added the point to her growing mental map of the ship, but remained silent, allowing the captain to do all the talking. As they walked past less-noteworthy parts of the ship, Onasi breached a different topic of conversation. "The Jedi aboard will be under your direct command, or so I am told. I have also been informed that there is a soldier transferring aboard as part of your party?"

"Loosely. Though I may require her services at some point, while we are aboard your ship, she will serve as any other Republic soldier."

"And what is her purpose, if I may ask?"

Bastila opened her mouth to give a suitably vague response when she was beaten to it by a vaguely familiar voice. "She is a translator, or so I am told." Both Bastila and Carth turned to face the Jedi who had approached them from behind. "It is good to see you again, Bastila," the Jedi greeted with a bow. "Captain Onasi, I hope you do not mind if I borrow Bastila for a moment?"

Despite the fact that he was in charge of the vessel, Carth knew when he was dismissed. He nodded to both of them. "I'll be on the bridge if you need me."

"Zanthis, this is a pleasant surprise," Bastila remarked. "The council had not told me you would be aboard."

He smiled and gestured back towards the way they had come. She looked at him oddly. With an amused grin, he explained. "The captain was taking you the long way around. I assume he was doing this to give himself more time to interrogate you. That man doesn't trust anyone. Anyway, your quarters are back this way and to answer your question, the Council on Dantooine could not inform you because they themselves were unaware. I was only assigned to this ship a week ago."

Bastila nodded, mulling this information over. "A translator?" she asked, studying Zanthis closely for any sign that he knew the truth.

"As soon as the Endar Spire docked, I paid a visit to Master Zhar. He appraised me of the situation. As it would happen, she woke up this morning and started spouting Mandalorian, or so I am told. Master Zhar thought it a suitable excuse. Be careful, however. This information has not been placed in the official records yet."

"So you know?"

Zanthis nodded and Bastila let out a relieved sigh. The idea that there was someone else here who _knew_ lifted an enormous weight from her shoulders. Suddenly her task did not seem quite as immense.

"Here," he said, opening the door to a small-yet-comfortable room. "This is yours." Once they were safely inside and out of reach of prying ears, he returned to the topic at hand and explained, "It would have been too dangerous for them to keep it a secret from me. I would have recognized her anyway."

"Yes. Of course."

The silence that ensued was full of unasked questions. Zanthis stared levelly at Bastila for nearly a minute before saying, "My own quarters are next door. I look forward to serving with you, Padawan Shan."

"Likewise, Knight Zanthis."

He stalled a moment more before finally removing himself from the room.

Bastila sat down heavily on the surprisingly luxurious bed. She would not be alone. The thought gave her more comfort than she cared to admit.


	4. The Endar Spire

A/N: I apologize for the significant drop in quality in this chapter. Feel free to yell at me. I deserve it.

* * *

"GET US BACK INTO HYPERSPACE! NOW!" Onasi shouted at the top of his lungs. The bridge around him was in chaos as soldiers rushed to do their jobs.

"Captain!" one of the pilots called. "The drive just went offline!"

Onasi wasted not a moment vaulting over the partition separating him from the pilot's seat. He shoved the man out of the way, trying his own hand at the controls.

From Bastila's right, another soldier shouted, "Hostiles approaching, sir!"

Captain Onasi's fist came down hard on the metal frame of the console. "Damn it!" he swore. "Sabotage!" He turned back towards the bridge and started hollering more orders. "Sanders! Gerrik! Zhol! Get a team and get the hyperspace drive back on line! Ejin! Get the escape pods ready!"

On the other side of the bridge, an officer was calmly announcing into a headset, "All personnel to battle stations. I repeat; all personnel to battle stations. Hostiles incoming. Prepare to be boarded. Estimated time to breach: seven minutes. All personnel to battle stations."

The calm-voiced officer's words reverberated through the interior of the ship. In harsh contrast, the bridge was still a cacophony of sound with orders and status updates being barked out constantly.

Bastila had never felt so helpless in her life. Next to her, Zanthis was the picture of a cool, controlled Jedi. He studied the scene for a moment more before turning to her.

"This is a lost cause and we both know it. Get to the escape pods. The Republic still needs your ability. I will do what must be done."

Bastila's eyes widened as she realized the implications of what he had just said, but before she could protest, he was gone.

*.*.*

_4 days earlier…_

Bastila admitted defeat for the third time that day with the hiss of withdrawing lightsaber blades. After the Endar Spire's launch, Zanthis had offered to spar with her to improve her martial skills. The week worth of training had removed some of the rust from Bastila's lightsaber technique, but she had yet to defeat the Jedi Guardian.

"Better," Zanthis declared. "But you are still relying too much on rote movements. You can only get so far just using the kata the masters drilled you in. Any fallen Jedi will see through you in an instant."

Bastila's lips thinned at the criticism. The first time he had told her about that flaw in her technique, she had understood and accepted the advice. This was the fourth time she had been on the receiving end of this lecture, however, and it was starting to wear thin.

"I am trying," she assured him icily.

They squared off. This time, however, Bastila found herself facing the tip of a lightsaber after trading a mere two blows.

"You have proven your point." If Bastila's tone could have gotten more frigid, it would have.

Zanthis disarmed his lightsaber. "It is a shame the masters neglected your training out of necessity. Battle Meditation is a valuable skill. However, the narrow focus has stunted your growth in other areas."

"Is this how you speak to the apprentices you teach?" Bastila bit back.

As if she had not said anything, the Knight continued, "The more I come to know you, the more I begin to doubt the Masters' judgment. You may have a strong connection to the Force, but you have never been taught to utilize that to the fullest extent. And here you are, shouldering the two greatest burdens in this war. If it were not for me, you would be expected to do so _alone_."

Bastila fought down her rising anger. "The Masters have confidence in my abilities."

Zanthis made a harsh, swiping gesture with his left hand. "Look beyond your pride for a _moment_ and think about this rationally! This is too much for even a master or a knight, but a _Padawan_? Even you can't be _that_ blind. Why did they choose you, of all people?"

Bastila's reply came through clenched teeth. "I was the only one left."

"That is not good enough and you know it."

"Because apparently I am the only one whose judgment is not skewed on this issue. Is _that_ good enough, Knight Zanthis?"

"_Your_ judgment? You are the one who let her live!"

"I saved her life! _Jedi do not kill their prisoners_." The vehemence with which she recited the line was enough to startle even her. Zanthis, however, was unmoved by the paradigm.

"Sometimes you have to make exceptions to the rules."

"The information she knows might decide this war."

"So you are willing to risk her getting loose just for the sake of some information she _might_ have and probably will _not_ be willing to divulge? If she returns to the Sith, we _will_ lose this war."

Bastila stared at the Knight, out of arguments to combat his apparent belief that she had made the wrong choice. Certainly, she'd had her own doubts, but to have them all laid out in front of her was imposing at best.

It also made her wonder: was there a single other person in the galaxy who would have done as she had done? Would no one else have spared Revan's life?

Had she really made the wrong decision?

Unaware of the doubts playing back and forth in Bastila's mind, Zanthis continued to rant. "She is singlehandedly responsible for the state of the Jedi Order. She drew the members of our Order to her side against the Council's wishes and then turned them to the dark side. She is responsible for the deaths of _billions_ of sentients. If there is anyone in this galaxy I would call 'evil', it would be her."

"She fell," Bastila retorted, her calm voice not betraying her doubts. "It is the risk that all Jedi share. Stop giving voice to your hatred, Knight Zanthis. It is unbecoming of a Jedi and need I remind you that such strong emotions are themselves a path to the dark side?"

The Jedi Guardian was too nonplussed for words for a long moment. Finally, he pursed his lips. "I suppose you are correct. However, that does not change the fact that she is a Sith. She cannot be trusted."

"Perhaps. But consider this: you knew her for all of a matter of weeks. I knew her for years. I know the dangers far better than you seem to think. Now, if you will excuse me, I wish to meditate and clear my mind. I suggest you do the same."

Zanthis only paused a moment before spinning on his heel and marching over to the door. He could not resist a parting shot. "Do not hesitate when it matters most, Padawan Shan, or the blood of the next massacre will be on _your_ hands."

Before she could even fully process the warning, the door was slamming closed in the Knight's wake. Sighing, Bastila looked around at the disarray of furniture around the edges of the large living quarters. Pulling on the Force, she began to move the pieces back to their original positions. She made certain to leave a space large enough for her meditations amongst the elegant furnishings.

The wealth of the suite was a bit much to Bastila, who was used to the Spartan accommodations of the Jedi Enclave. However, such was to be expected of a warship used for the escort of political dignitaries.

As she sank into her meditation, one desperate thought floated across her conscience.

_Don't betray us, Revan. Please._

_*.*.*_

The day after their argument (or, rather, a shift and a half- Bastila was still getting used to the military way of doing things), the two senior Jedi aboard the Endar Spire were summoned to the bridge at the Captain's behest.

Bastila tried to remain the picture of Jedi solemnity as she studied Captain Onasi, wondering what was so important that he had asked for them. He had made a point of trying to 'get to know' her at various points during their voyage. However, these were merely attempts at grilling her for information; mostly about her defeat of Darth Revan. Once or twice he let the name "Saul Karath" slip into conversation and though it was obvious he was trying to be subtle about it, Bastila knew that he was really looking for information about the man.

She had answered honestly that she had no idea who that was.

This, however, would not be some quick chat, as was evidenced by the presence of all of the senior officers aboard the Endar Spire.

Captain Onasi looked around, making a mental tally. "Good. Everyone's here. I'll get straight to the point: our orders have changed."

Had this been anything but a gathering of well-trained military officers and two Jedi, murmurs would have gone up at this pronouncement. Instead, the only reaction the declaration got was a few raised eyebrows and a couple of the more junior officers glancing around to see how others were reacting to the news.

Clearing his throat, the Captain continued. "Intelligence has gathered that the Sith intend to launch an attack on Taris, in the Ojoster sector. As you know, this is a vital stronghold for the Republic. It's our last major foothold in the Outer Rim. It must be protected at all costs.

"A fleet is moving into position over Taris to defend it from the increasing Sith presence in the sector. We have been ordered to meet up with the fleet over Taris and assist in its defense. We have already changed course for our new destination. Any questions? As soon as this meeting is adjourned, I will make the announcement to the crew."

Silence greeting this pronouncement until Zanthis spoke up. "Have we received confirmation of these orders?"

One of the senior officers gave him a dirty look. "Of course. The orders are genuine. I checked them myself."

The Jedi Knight pursed his lips but said nothing more.

"One more thing," Captain Onasi added, catching everyone's attention again. "Our course takes us directly through Sith space. We should be out of range of all Sith installations and known patrols. But you all know the drill: no communications. We're running silent. Understood?"

When no response was forthcoming, Onasi glanced around once more before nodding curtly. "Dismissed!"

Almost in unison, the officers saluted. Bastila paused a moment to admire their strict uniformity before turning to leave, the other Jedi beside her.

They said nothing as they threaded back through the ship- they had not spoken since the argument- and the silence stretched tensely between them.

As they were closing in on their quarters, Zanthis finally broke the silence. "Something does not feel right."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

With a shrug, he answered, "It is likely nothing."

"Nothing is nothing when it comes to the Force."

"I am going to check on _her_."

With a disgruntled sigh, Bastila watched him walk off before entering her quarters. She wondered if Zanthis was planning to 'end things' himself.

No. He was a Jedi. He would not do such a thing.

*.*.*

Zanthis cursed under his breath he ran away from the bridge, alarms and orders echoing through the halls of the Endar Spire. He had been right to be suspicious. His gut feeling had been correct all along, but he had been too focused on the threat presented by Revan to see the truth.

Revan was quartered on the opposite side of the ship from the bridge. He wouldn't make it before the Sith boarded, and it Revan wasn't there, he wouldn't know where to begin looking after that. He would have to find her somehow. She could not be allowed to fall into Sith hands one way or another. If that meant she had to die at his, so be it.

Soldiers rushed about, getting to their battle stations and making ready to meet the threat of the boarding parties. They would have no chance, Zanthis knew. There were dark Jedi on those boarding ships. He could feel their presence encroaching.

He pushed himself to run faster. The dark Jedi could probably feel Revan's power. He would have to head them off. He doubted any of the Sith troopers would take the time to capture a Republic soldier, but the dark Jedi would know what they were dealing with. They were the real threat.

He was almost all the way to the docking bay when he started running into Sith troopers. He tore through them with a mindless determination, not caring that he did not kill most of them. A few of the blaster bolts he reflected hit their marks, but he didn't much care.

Because right behind them was his true target.

Zanthis wasted no time leaping towards his adversary, bringing his blade to bear. The blades flared brightly against each other, blinding in their intensity.

Sith troopers started firing at him, but after the dark Jedi had to reflect some of the shots himself, he glared at the offending footsoldiers and ordered them off.

Without a moment's hesitation, they engaged once more. Zanthis was almost immediately put on the defensive, blocking hammer-like strikes at a breakneck pace. Around them, the Sith Troopers ran deeper into the ship and soon enough, all that remained were the two combatants and the sounds of their battle.

He blocked an overhead strike, countering with a side swipe towards his adversary's stomach. The enemy deflected his lightsaber blade downward, where it sliced through some piece of electronics. The console began to spark violently, but since his robes didn't catch on fire from it, Zanthis paid it no heed.

He went on the offensive again, raining fast, precise, but weak blows upon his opponent's defense. Just as the enemy deflected yet another blow, he pivoted on his left heel and chambered a kick directly towards the dark Jedi's stomach.

The enemy was caught off-guard by the action and stumbled back. It was enough. Zanthis' lightsaber cleaved a brilliant green arc through the air, ripping through the opponent's clavicle and opening a gaping wound in his chest. The man was dead immediately.

Zanthis looked around; checking for potential threats. As he looked towards the direction the Sith had come from, his eyes landed on Revan and some Republic soldier. Their eyes met just for a moment. Zanthis reignited his lightsaber behind his back, intending to finish it in one decisive blow…

Reacting to the sudden flare of energy, electricity from the severed console behind him arced directly into his lightsaber, destroying the weapon instantly and sending thousands of volts of electricity through the Jedi's body.

Nearby, Revan watched dispassionately.

*.*.*

Her escape pod was hurtling towards Taris at a blinding speed, but Bastila paid no heed to that fact as she used her Battle Meditation to track Zanthis' and Revan's progress through the Endar Spire. Zanthis' death was unfortunate, but she didn't have time to worry about that. There were still at least two dark Jedi aboard the ship, one of whom was directly in the path to the escape pods, cutting down any and all Republic soldiers who tried to get off the ship.

She steeled herself to concentrate all of her talents on that inevitable confrontation. Revan and the Republic soldier with her were getting closer and closer, cleaving through any and all resistance with efficiency. When they got close enough, Bastila focused herself and reached out through the Force…

Her escape pod crashed into the surface of Taris with and unforgiving jolt. The sudden interruption from her Battle Meditation stunned her and she tried to pull herself back together. Revan was still on that ship, likely facing off with a dark Jedi, and Bastila could _not_ allow that battle to go the wrong way.

The hatch of the escape pod was pried open and Bastila had no time to react before she was set upon by the locals.


	5. Disruption

**A/N: **Sorry about the delay and thank you to everyone for your lovely support. It means a lot to hear your thoughts and feedback. A note about this chapter: I ripped some of the dialogue directly from the game and changed some of it slightly. In the future, I intend to do a lot more tweaking to the dialogue, since this is, after all, a fic and not the game itself. If you're looking for a transcript, look on youtube. Now, without further ado...

The first thing Bastila became aware of was the pain. It raced along her muscles, recalling unpleasant memories of being subdued by stun batons. They had not stopped until she was unconscious. They had probably continued long after as well.

But she was a Jedi. She could focus through the pain. She was undoubtedly a captive, evidenced not only by the vague memories of her capture, but also by the cuffs that shackled her wrists and ankles to the unforgiving metal wall behind her. She needed to take stock. She reached for the Force shakily, sensing her surroundings as much as she could with her mind disoriented as it was.

There were three beings in the room with her, none of them connected to the Force in any meaningful way. Two of them were flanking the third, marking him as the one in charge.

Three? That's all there were? Did he not know she was a Jedi or was he just that bold?

"The drugs should be working by now. I know you're awake."

Drugs? Now that she was paying attention, she could feel that her heart rate was elevated and her adrenalin levels were higher than they should be.

Regardless, the charade of being asleep was of no use to her anymore. She opened her eyes and studied her captors. The leader's posture spoke of brash, unconcerned confidence. He had both hands in his pockets and a calculating expression on his face.

He didn't even consider her a _threat_.

Feeling thoroughly insulted now, Bastila gritted her teeth. "You do not honestly think that you can get away with this."

The leader laughed, firm in his apparent superiority. "Who's gonna stop me? Your precious Jedi Order?"

"Precisely."

"Not on a Sith-ruled world, girlie." He gave her a deliberate moment to process that information. Though shocked and worried, Bastila made certain that he wouldn't see any of that in her expression. Her mind spun to come up with some useful response to that, but he was now walking towards her. Her eyes narrowed.

He stopped right in front of her. So close, in fact, that the foul scent of his breath was impossible to escape or ignore- as was his pronounced leer. After giving her a look-over, he leaned in even closer and whispered, "I wonder how much money that body of yours could make me on the slave market?"

"You expect to sell a Jedi on the _slave market_?" Bastila asked dubiously. The idea was patently absurd.

He backed off and smirked at her. "It ain't a bad idea. Keeps you outta Sith hands and anything that makes _them_ mad makes me happy."

"And what is to stop me from killing you?"

He raised a hand close to her jaw and she had to focus very hard to stay perfectly still as he ran a finger along some sort of collar latched around her neck. She wondered a moment just what it was for. "Just _try_."

Rolling her eyes at the theatrics, she reached for the Force and ordered, "_You will let me go_."

One of the others raised a device. He hit a switch on it and suddenly Bastila's world dissolved into static.

Her captors, especially the leader, were talking, but the words seemed to just fly by her head without reaching her brain. Every thought she began got swallowed up before it could be finished.

At some point, they left, though Bastila was in no state to even notice. Eventually, she slipped into unconsciousness, though the change was not a particularly pronounced one.

She dreamed of fragments of her encounter with Revan. Every part seemed disjointed and cut-short and just _wrong_.

When she awoke, she fared no better against the mental interruptions than she had before she had fallen asleep. She tried to focus and as minutes turned to hours, she began turning to her meditation mantras. They were so rote and basic to her that even with the interference, she was able to continue. In fact, it was like all those times she had meditated in the gardens of the Dantooine enclave with the apprentices constantly disrupting the peace.

They came in with food but she didn't even notice until the mush was being shoved in her mouth. Her jaw and throat worked on automatic, which was lucky because Bastila couldn't have concentrated on the task to save her life.

The most important Jedi in the war against the Sith and she was being _spoonfed_ by some nobody _gangster_.

It was humiliating.

But just as soon as the thought entered her consciousness, it was as though a bolt of electricity shocked her brain and the entire train of thought slipped away from her.

Wait, was she being _spoonfed_ by a…

Indignation rose again, only to fall away suddenly as the process repeated.

Eventually, the forced-feeding ended and she was left alone with her disjointed thoughts.

Time passed. Minutes, maybe hours, flew by. The sense of time was utterly lost upon the captive Jedi.

Sleep claimed her once more.

Waking came with a painful stiffness in her neck and joints. Mostly, her neck hurt from hanging forward as she slept. The pain, surprisingly, helped. With it to focus on, she was slowly able to overcome the interruptions. She began to move in the limited range that her shackles allowed, flexing her neck from side to side and rolling her shoulders. Her weary muscles protested the actions.

She returned to her mental meditation routines, but before she finished them, another goon came in with her meal.

More able to focus, Bastila was rewarded by noticing just how tasteless the mush was. It was a discovery she could have done without. Similarly, she found herself glowering in humiliation. Her captor was only further fuelled by her hatred, smirking superiorly in response.

No, she was a Jedi. Jedi did not give into hatred. She chanted the Jedi mantra as her mouth worked automatically devouring the muck being spooned into it.

No, she did not hate her captor. She merely disliked him with extreme prejudice.

Another day passed and with it, Bastila's resistance to the mental interruptions grew. When she was truly focusing , she could follow her thoughts through with consistency. She could also now pay attention to her surroundings. Unfortunately, there wasn't much there to pay attention to. She was in a bare holding cell. It smelled foul.

Which, she realized, was because _she_ smelled foul.

For the sake of her sanity (and her pride), she decided not to think about it.

Unfortunately, it also made her realize that she _really_ needed to pee.

Instead, she turned her attention to the Force, trying to access it. The first mental interruption was enough to break her concentration. So, she tried again.

And again.

And again.

When the fifth try fared no better than the first, Bastila gave up in frustration, letting her thoughts drift away. She wondered if any of the crew of the Endar Spire had made it off alive…

The door to her cell opened with an obnoxious clang. It interrupted her thoughts more surely than the thrice-accursed collar.

Striding into the room like he hadn't a care in the world was the man she had pinned as being responsible for her predicament. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and muttered something to himself under his breath. He watched her for a moment before letting out a sharp whistle. Two of his peons came at the call.

He gestured to her. "Get her cleaned up for the race tomorrow." After a moment, he added in a dangerous tone, "And if I find out that you've… _damaged the merchandise_ in any way, I will kill you both in the most painful way possible."

"Yes, Brejik." The two of them moved past their leader to carry out his commands.

_Oh, Force,_ Bastila swore silently. _This can't be happening…_

*.*.*

The cage at the race track proved to be a more than welcome change of scenery, though Bastila was not nearly as appreciative of the wardrobe change. Thanks to the leader's threat, no harm had come to her, save to her pride. Regardless, she had worked through the night to improve her concentration. By the time morning came around, she was capable of accessing the Force as well as could be expected, given the circumstances.

Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the right time to make her move. The racetrack would hopefully provide the perfect opportunity, especially since this "Brejik" character hadn't thought her enough of a threat to restrain, trusting her collar to handle that.

Her wits were collected enough for her to realize the best way to find this opportunity was to pretend as though she was completely incapable. It was not a hard charade to pull off, but doing so while maintaining her awareness of the surroundings was proving a strain with the neural disruptor's continual interruptions.

There was a guard standing directly outside of her cage, equipped with a dual-blade, something she could use to her advantage if a fight broke out. Dual-blades were her specialty, after all, though she obviously preferred her lightsaber.

Already, she had heard the guard "discouraging" one or two people who got too close.

She could hear the race announcements, though paid them no heed. She was looking for any sort of distraction she could use to her advantage, and that would be most obvious by looking at the people around her. She did notice that one racer seemed to be causing quite a bit of fuss by breaking all sort of records. But what did she care? She _needed_ to free herself before some random racer claimed her as some sort of prize.

Unfortunately, the race was coming to a close and she had not seen a single viable opening. The guard outside her cage was being unnaturally vigilant. However, to simply break free without either a plan or a distraction to cover her escape would be suicide.

A roar of cheers went up. Listening to the announcer for a moment, she realized that the race had been won. Now was her chance. She reached for the Force and felt the comforting presence and power at her fingertips. With a thought, the collar was ripped in two.

The absence of the neural disruptions was the most liberating thing Bastila had ever experienced. She felt a wave of adrenalin rush through her. Now that she was free, none of these _thugs_ could stop her. She was a Jedi, and she would show them _exactly_ what that meant.

Brejik was making some longwinded speech. She felt disdain for his egotistical confidence. He wouldn't be so self-assured if he knew she was free. When she heard him talk about selling her on the slave market, however, she had heard more than enough.

"I might have something to say about that, Brejik!" she proclaimed, her words backed by all the confidence of having the Force back at her fingertips. As such, it was mere child's play to tear open the door to her cage using the force and subdue the guard.

Yes, his weapon would do quite nicely. At least, it would until she found her lightsaber.

Brejik was sputtering in disbelief, blabbering on about the neural disruptor collar. Yes, it had been a large obstacle to overcome, but Bastila was a Jedi and she was more powerful than a piece of technology.

"You underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind, Brejik – a mistake you won't live to regret!"

She brandished the weapon she had acquired, testing its heft and weight as Brejik ordered his thugs to kill her.

Flushed with power, she dispatched any Vulkar she came across with disdain. They had _deigned _to keep her prisoner. Now they would reap the consequences. She was so focused on the task of battling her way through to Brejik that she didn't notice until halfway through the fight that she wasn't the only one battling. The other combatant felt vaguely familiar, but Bastila paid the feeling no heed, focusing instead on her opponents.

They ended up somehow back to back and still Bastila had not gotten a good look at her ally. In fact, Bastila was rather sure that it was, in fact, the racer Brejik had shortchanged, making this "ally", in fact, her enemy. For now they fought together, but she couldn't let her guard down for an instant.

The blade was growing heavy in Bastila's arms as Brejik's supply of goons was exhausted. She had not slept the night before and she was making full use of both her adrenalin and the Force to keep herself one step ahead. Now, all that was left was Brejik himself and the mysterious "ally". Bastila had been looking forward to this for days.

Before she could act, however, the other combatant engaged the Vulkar leader in combat, drawing him in with a feint before bringing the vibroblade around in a brutally efficient slash. Brejik fell to the ground, clutching at his bleeding thigh. There was not a moment's hesitation before the same blade cleaved through his neck.

Bastila stood there, stunned. This… this _racer_ had just deprived Bastila of her revenge.

But no. She was a Jedi. Jedi do not seek revenge; only justice. So, if justice was served, Bastila would have to be satisfied with that. Somehow, the idea tasted sour.

"I suppose he got what he deserved," she muttered- without, of course, any bitterness at all. But there was still the matter of the racer to deal with. "As for you," she said, turning to her once-ally. "If you think you can just claim me as a prize…"

_By the Force! Revan!_

Bastila found herself forgetting the end of her sentence in absolute shock. What was _Revan_ doing here? What was Revan doing racing _swoop_ of all things?

"Wait… I don't believe this..." she muttered.

"Not exactly the 'thank you' I was hoping for," Revan remarked dryly.

No, Bastila reminded herself. Not Revan. What was her name again?

Frantically, Bastila tried to buy herself some time as she came up for a plan to deal with this surprising turn of events. "You're… you're one of the soldiers with the Republic fleet… aren't you?"

That didn't sound incompetent _at all_. No, she needed to take control of this situation and to do that, she needed to understand what was going on. "Why are you racing for a swoop gang, of all things?"

Revan was looking at her oddly. "I was told it was my duty as a Republic Soldier to get you off this planet. This seemed the most efficient way of getting to you."

This was the great Revan. The Sith Lord. The Revanchist. And the best she could come up with for a rescue plan was to participate in a _swoop race_?

Clearly the Jedi Masters hadn't done a very good job.

"This was your plan? You trusted him to just hand me over? What if I hadn't broken out of my restraints? You would have been fighting alone against all of Brejik's men. Is this your idea of a rescue attempt?"

"We don't have time for this," Revan replied disdainfully, turning to leave and seemingly expecting Bastila to follow. "Carth is waiting for us," she added as she walked away.

Bastila's rising irritation was quashed by Carth's name. So the captain had survived. "Carth? Carth Onasi?" she clarified. The lack of a response seemed to indicate that the Carth in question was, in fact, Captain Onasi. "Finally, some good news. Carth is one of the Republic's best soldiers. Was he the one that sent you here?"

Revan didn't respond. Bastila wondered if it was because she was put off by the criticism of her rescue 'plan'. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge. This was Revan, after all. Perhaps she simply did not know all of the details. So, swallowing her pride, she apologized. "Forgive me – despite my Jedi training, I still tend to act a bit rashly sometimes." Something the masters often criticized her for.

Still no response. Bastila tried once more. "I am certain that between the three of us we can figure out some way to get off this planet before the Sith realize we're here."

When no reply was forthcoming, Bastila took the hint and shut up.

Just wonderful. It was their first time talking and Bastila already felt like a disobedient apprentice again. This mission was going so _very_ well…


	6. Leadership

"Bastila! You're alive!" Onasi exclaimed as the Jedi in question followed Revan into their 'hideout'. "Finally, things are starting to look up. Now we just need to figure out a way to get off this planet."

Bastila would have been hard pressed to match the captain's enthusiasm, even if she had wanted to. Now that the adrenalin had worn off, she was feeling sore and sick from her treatment at Brejik's hands and the fact that she had not slept in the past day was not helping the fact. She was sporting one or two minor cuts from the scuffle at the race track which were starting to sting angrily for lack of attention. To top it all off, Revan had insisted on taking a longer route to their destination, muttering something about 'avoiding suspicion'.

In short, she had no energy to summon to do _anything_, nevermind come up with some sort of plan to get off the planet, as he seemed to be asking. Why should _she_ be the one to come up with this plan? Just yesterday, she'd been shackled to a wall under the effects of a neural disruptor while they'd been running around making deals with swoop gangs or whatever it was they had been doing.

"You mean you don't have a plan yet? What have you been doing all this time?"

"Looking for you," Revan drawled from behind her, as though speaking to a slow child. Bastila swallowed her pride and the harsh retort that threatened. Instead, she turned to Revan, seeing her leaning against the wall next to the door with arms crossed and one foot flat against the wall. Like Brejik, Revan apparently didn't think much of her. This would not do. _She_ was placed in charge. The Masters had confidence in her abilities to control Revan. She would have to do so.

"Anyway, now that I am here, perhaps things will start going more smoothly. I would rather not see a repeat of your attempt to… _rescue_ me from Brejik."

"Hey," Carth said harshly. "You may be new at this, but a commander doesn't berate her troops just because things aren't quite going as planned. Don't let your ego get in the way of the mission."

Bastila was suddenly feeling very put-upon. Revan and Carth were standing on opposite sides of the room, forcing her to turn back and forth when they switched off speaking. Were they doing this on purpose?

"Is that how you always speak to your commanding officers, Captain Onasi? I am a member of the Jedi Order and I am the one in charge of this mission. Is that understood?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Bastila cringed inwardly. She shouldn't have said that. Regardless, she had to forge ahead and maintain control. "My Battle Meditation has served the Republic many times in this war, and it will serve us well here, I am sure."

Onasi crossed his arms, practically glaring at her. "Your talents may have won us a few battles, but that doesn't make you a good leader. A good leader would at least _listen_ to the advice of those who have seen more combat than she ever will."

"Stop it," Revan snapped, interrupting Bastila from her planned retort. "This isn't doing any of us any good."

Bastila felt stupid. Carth wasn't the enemy here. In fact, he seemed perfectly happy with her in charge as long as she was willing to listen. Her eyes shifted to Revan. No, it was Revan who was the real problem here. Left up to her own devices, who knew what Revan would do?

Regardless, she was burning bridges where she should have been building them. Like it or not, she needed Onasi's skill and expertise to get off this planet. Moreover, she needed Revan to be willing to follow her lead.

"Forgive me, Captain Onasi-"

"Call me Carth."

"…Carth. You are correct, of course. This has been a… difficult time for me." She turned to Revan. "I suppose I owe you an apology as well. If you had not come when you did, I might not have been able to escape Brejik's grasp. What is it you suggest we do?"

Revan raised an eyebrow, but it was Carth who responded. "Listen, we can't keep getting hung up on who's in charge; we all need to work together if we want to get off this rock. The answer's out there. We just have to find it."

Bastila thought about racing off to find the answer, only to realize how bad an idea that was. Exhaustion was beating at the edges of her mind and she couldn't quite reason clearly. Biting back a yawn, she tried to put on a pleasant smile. "Well said, Carth. But before we do that, is there somewhere I could rest? This day has been particularly trying."

Revan gestured to the room's bed. "I'm guessing you're hungry as well. We need more rations. I'll pick some up."

The olive branch was as relieving as it was surprising. As Bastila helped herself to the bed- hard as it was, it was just about the most comfortable thing she had ever felt- she heard Carth protesting. "You've had a long day as well, Envar. Catch some rest. I'll get the rations."

_Envar_. That was Revan's new name. Sleep already grabbing at the edges of her consciousness, Bastila chided herself that she had to remember Revan's new name.

But before she could commit it to memory, unconsciousness enveloped her.

*.*.*

The silence was uncomfortable. One might even say awkward. Bastila preferred the word 'uncomfortable', however. It described exactly how she felt sitting across the small table from Revan, eating the canned food Carth had managed to scrounge up for their breakfast. Neither of them had said a word since waking up this morning. Bastila had gotten the rest she needed in the room's sole bed while Revan had curled up in one of the room's seats. Carth was still nowhere to be seen and that troubled her.

It did not trouble her quite so much, however, as the distinct lack of conversation happening between her and Revan.

Bastila was no stranger to sitting in silence with others. Meditation frequently happened in the presence of others. However, this was not like that. This silence was something else. She only wished she knew how to break it without making things worse.

Swallowing a bite of the canned… whatever this was (she didn't particularly feel brave enough to check the label and find out), she glanced up at Revan and their eyes met. For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something in Revan's expression.

"Is… is something wrong?" Bastila asked hesitantly. Revan looked back at her flatly. "You seem almost as though something is troubling you."

"It is nothing," Revan replied definitely, shutting down that line of conversation.

Yes, uncomfortable was probably the best word for the silence between them. Bastila wondered if she should apologize again or even bother with restarting the conversation. Thus far, none of her attempts to talk to Revan had met with any success.

She wished Carth was here.

No. She was a Jedi. Jedi could handle their own problems without the assistance of Republic officers. This was a problem she could handle on her own.

She set her can and spoon aside. "I would like to know what happened after you crashed on Taris."

"We were looking for you."

No. Revan would not get off so easily this time. They would have a conversation if it killed her, Bastila swore. "I realize that, of course. But surely there was more to it than a simple search. I doubt there were flashing signs that pointed you in my direction; yet somehow you found me."

"Your point?"

Bastila pursed her lips. "You managed to avoid detection by the Sith, discover that I was a prisoner, gained sponsorship for the race, and became the Taris swoop champion. Each of those alone is quite a task, but the fact that you managed all of that in such a short amount of time is nothing short of amazing."

"You say that as though I am responsible for all of that."

Bastila took another spoonful of her 'breakfast' to cover her amusement. "Are you saying that you are not?" At Revan's raised eyebrow, Bastila continued. "Carth Onasi may be a war hero and a well-respected officer, but he seemed to defer to you. Was I mistaken?"

Revan was silent for a long moment. At length, she replied, "You were not mistaken. But I can't take credit for everything. I had a lot of help. Carth, yes, but Mission and Zaalbar, too- you'll meet them soon."

"Your modesty is admirable," Bastila praised, hoping that this was, in fact, true modesty and not some manipulation. "But though others helped, you were the catalyst for these events."

Revan finished her breakfast and closed the can, setting it aside for future disposal. "And?" she prompted, seemingly utterly unimpressed by the fact that she was being complimented by a Jedi.

Bastila would simply have to try harder to win her over, then. "When you were first chosen for this mission, I doubt anyone expected this much of you. A Jedi could have done such things, of course, but only by drawing heavily on the Force."

As soon as the words left her lips, Bastila realized what she had just said. _The Force_. Had Revan reattained her connection to the Force? That could spell disaster.

Revan, however, seemed amused and entirely unaware of Bastila's alarm. "What, now you think I'm a Jedi? Yesterday you were convinced I was incompetent."

"I have revised my opinion since then. Anyway, the Force works through all of us in some degree or another. There are some individuals outside the Jedi Order considered 'Force sensitive'."

The more she thought about it, the more Bastila didn't believe that Revan's successes on Taris could have happened without the pull of the Force. There was no luck, after all; there was the Force. She could not sense any Force connection from Revan, however, so treating her as if she was simply 'Force sensitive' seemed like the best option at the moment.

"It is obvious to me," she continued, "that the Force has been working through you. There is no other explanation for your great success… though… I am not certain what to make of this discovery."

"Don't call it a discovery until you have proof that is not entirely circumstantial."

"Yes, well, this is a matter best left to the masters. When we get off of Taris, it would be wise to seek their opinion on such things." And to ensure that Revan was still cut off from the Force.

Revan frowned and stood up, crossing the room to retrieve a small, but heavy-looking bag. "Have you recovered?" she asked as she reached a hand into the bag and rummaged around. A sound of metallic clunking accompanied the action.

"I have, thank you," Bastila replied, touched by the thoughtfulness of the question.

With a slight "Aha," Revan found what she was looking for. "Good, because we need everyone at their best. You will likely need to be able to use this."

Bastila let out a relieved and overjoyed breath before schooling her features back into the impassivity she was supposed to maintain. It was her lightsaber, safe and unharmed. She had assumed it lost. The weight and feel of it in her hand was a comfort in a trying situation.

"Also, Carth should be returning soon with some new clothes for you. The stuff we scavenged yesterday was good enough for getting you out of the undercity, but it won't pass for blending here. The human-friendly washroom is down the hall to your right."

As if summoned, Carth's voice sounded from the doorway. "Looking for these?"

"Carth," Revan replied. "Perfect timing. Bastila, why don't you go get cleaned up?"

"Oh, you thought I meant the clothes? I was referring to these two, but I've got the clothes too," Carth joked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at… was that a Wookie?

Bastila was completely nonplussed by the appearance of the Twi'lek and her Wookie companion, to say the least and she was given no time to take it all in. The Twi'lek was already bouncing towards her. "Ooh! You must be Bastila! I'm Mission and this here's Zaalbar. I'm glad you're OK. Carth'n'Envar've been workin _real_ hard to find you."

Envar. Revan. Right. Wait… did the masters really make her name an anagram of her real name? Master Zhar certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

On the other side of the room, Carth was talking to Revan. Bastila managed to catch some of what he was saying. "…messenger. Mission says that Mandalorian sent him. Canderous, I think his name was. Couldn't understand him myself, but she said that…"

She tried to listen to whatever else was being said, but the Twi'lek was talking to her again. "Hey, you OK? You seem a little spacey. Hello?"

Bastila faked a smile around her irritation. "I am just fine- Mission, was it? If you do not mind, I need to freshen up. Please excuse me."

She wound her way around Mission and the Wookie whose name she had already forgotten, making a beeline for Carth. The officer handed her the clothes absently as he continued talking to Revan. Bastila slowed her progress to the door to hear what was being said.

"…said they haven't talked to Gadon yet. Don't know why not, but apparently things are rough in the Undercity right now with Brejik dead. Can't say I like the idea of them going down there again with all the ruckus…"

Realizing that the conversation meant nothing to her, Bastila sighed and stepped out of the room into the nearly-empty corridor. As she followed the rather terse directions she'd been given, Bastila couldn't help but fantasize about taking a hot shower. Nothing would wash away the week's trials and tribulations like a scalding hot shower; or better, a long soak in a tub. However, Bastila was not naïve enough to think she would find a bathtub in this facility.

As she would discover, she had been naïve to even expect a shower. The human-friendly washroom was nothing more than a toilet and a sink with a broken mirror. At least it had a lock.

Apparently, hot water was too much to ask as well. The tap ran the gamut from ice-cold to lukewarm. The soap dispenser was utterly empty, repaying her urgent attempts to use it with nothing but gurgling hisses.

Bastila cleaned herself as best she was able, and by the time she was done, she was absolutely miserable. The lukewarm water had ceased to even feel lukewarm and she was all-but shivering until she donned her new wardrobe.

The clothes were, unsurprisingly, the high point of the process. Carth had apparently known what to get her. They were partially brown- though not quite the color of Jedi robes- and almost robe-like in cut. They fit well- though not perfectly- and allowed her the ease of movement Jedi combat required. She would have to thank the Captain for his thoughtfulness.

Thus, feeling at least marginally better, she exited the washroom and walked the short distance back to their small apartment.

While she was gone, the others had apparently all gathered around the room's low table, where they all sat. When she entered, Carth noticed and beckoned her over.

"Looks like they fit. I'm glad. I wasn't really sure what measurements to give them, so I had to guess a bit."

"They fit rather nicely. Thank you, Carth. Out of curiosity, though, where did you find the money for this?"

"Swoop winnings, mostly. We've done a few odd jobs around Taris for some spare change, but the winnings will hold us over for a while. Anyway, join us. We'll bring you up to speed."

Bastila took a seat at the table in between Carth and Mission- both of whom scooted over to make room for her.

At a nod from Carth, Revan took control of the meeting. "I believe you met Mission and Zaalbar already. They are both locals who have been helping us. It was thanks to Mission that I was able to get into the swoop race at all. Carth you already know.

"Our first objective was finding you. With that done, our only remaining objective is getting off this planet. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but the entire planet is under Sith quarantine. Carth is fairly certain that their objective is finding you, given your importance to the war effort."

Carth nodded decisively, before adding, "Making it our duty to the Republic to make sure you make it back to Republic space safe and sound."

"Easier said than done," Revan picked up. "All ships are grounded unless they have Sith passcodes to get through the blockade. The only way out is through them somehow. Gadon Bek and other Taris residents have been trading in all things Sith, looking for ways around the quarantine. We managed to get papers from them in exchange for Sith uniforms. Something as valuable as the blockade codes aren't likely to be for sale, even in the black market, but Mission and Zaalbar have been getting in touch with their contacts and hunting for anything we could use."

Bastila's hopes sank at that. "And that is our only lead?"

"My newfound fame may have bought us another lead. It's dangerous that many people may know my face, but it can't be helped now. Anyway, Canderous Ordo is a mercenary working for the Exchange's local crime boss. I do not know why, but he asked for a meeting with me. If anyone non-Sith can find a way off this rock, it'll be the Exchange. Don't quite like the idea of working with them, but this quarantine is probably hurting them as much as us. Still, I don't know just how many 'favors' it'll take to buy our way out of here and that's worrying."

So… hunting for black market information or the Exchange. Bastila's hopes were not getting any higher.

"So, now that you know what's what, it's about time we got down to business. Mission, Zaalbar, you know what to do. Bastila, Carth, you're with me. I want some extra eyes and ears in that cantina when I go to meet with the mercenary."

_Well_, Bastila thought wistfully, _so much for being in charge._

_*.*.*_

The bartender had grumbled when Bastila ordered water, but she had tipped him to make up for it. It wouldn't do for her to drink while she was supposed to be using her senses, but Reven had also warned her against appearing out of place.

The Mandalorian she had presumed was Canderous Ordo was sitting at one of the nearby tables, enjoying a drink that was probably Tarisian Ale. Carth was sitting across the room, chatting it up with one of the female patrons to appear inconspicuous. This whole setup had convinced Bastila of one thing: Revan was paranoid.

Nothing in the life the masters had given her should have made Revan paranoid, and yet she insisted on being prepared for anything that might happen.

Bastila spied Revan entering the room and took a sip of her water. She wished it were tea, but she doubted such an establishment would stock such a thing.

Unlike Bastila and Carth, who were biding their time, Revan strode right up to Canderous' table and sat down at one of the available seats. Well, 'sat down' wasn't quite the proper phrase. Sprawled might have been a more accurate description. Revan was the picture of cockiness as she smirked at the mercenary.

"Heard you were looking for me."

Canderous made a motion to flag down one of the waiters. "Want anything?" he asked gruffly.

"Yeah," Revan responded, "To know why I'm here."

"Right down to business. Just the way I like it. Anyway, I saw you in the swoop race. Very impressive."

"I thought we were cutting the small talk."

Canderous left his glass on the table and leaned back, adopting a similar pose to Revan's. "We are. You seem like you know how to get results. I'm looking for someone like that."

"Isn't that what people usually hire _you_ for?"

"Look, I want off this planet. To do that, I need the Sith launch codes."

Revan scoffed. "You and the rest of this planet."

"Yeah, but the rest of this planet ain't got a ship and a droid that can hack into the Sith military base. All I need is someone crazy enough to try."

"Why not do it yourself if you have everything you need?"

Canderous sighed and made an exaggerated shrug. "Everyone knows who I work for. If I broke into the Sith base, they'd send an army down on Davik's estate to get those codes back. Listen, if you get me those codes, I get you a ship to get off planet with. We both get what we want."

"I'll help you on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Got a couple others need transportation off this planet. They come too."

Now it was Canderous' turn to smirk. "You mean the flyboy and her?" Bastila nearly choked on her water as Canderous cocked a thumb in her direction. "Don't be surprised. I saw flyboy following you around like a lost puppy and this one wasn't exactly subtle about listening in."

Bastila tried not to blush. She really did. She cast around for anything to say to make herself seem less useless. "I… didn't sense any deception from him. I believe that this is exactly what we need."

Canderous laughed softly. "Anyway, pay a visit to Janice Nall and tell her Canderous sent you. She'll sell you the droid. I'll be waiting for you in Jayvar's cantina. You come find me when you've got those launch codes and I'll make sure we all get off this rock."

Looking back on the conversation, Bastila was surprised to discover that more than lacking any sign of deception, she trusted the Mandalorian to pull through for them and it seemed that Revan did, too.

Carth voiced his concerns loudly on the way out of the cantina, but both women ignored him.


End file.
